In the Heat of the Night
by rosie4299
Summary: Written long ago for the Seasonal Passions Trory Exchange. It's summertime, and it's up to Tristan to convince Rory that sweating like a pig isn't always a bad thing.


**An Author's Bored Ramblings**- So, you may or may not remember this story. I wrote it about a year and a half ago, for the now defunct Seasonal Passions Trory Exchange. I can't remember why I never posted it here, but I was just working on my profile, and realized that this and another piece I wrote for SP weren't on here. So, here they are. This was only up on SP for about two weeks before I took it down, so there's a good chance you didn't read it, if you followed Seasonal Passions until it's demise in 2005. Wow. That was a long time ago. Thanks go out to Ames, who betaed it a long, long, long time ago, and to M and J whom I vaguely remember bugging the crap out of to read this over.

So, here it is, my last piece from Seasonal Passions. This was for the Summer 2005 round, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Things to Include:  
1.) Newly married Trory  
2.) Vacation to Martha's Vineyard, Nantucket, Williamsburg, etc  
3.) A Bed and Breakfast (Not the Dragonfly Inn)

Things NOT to Include:  
1.) No Angst (only fluff!)  
2.) No Kids yet, Pets acceptable  
3.) No mention of Dean or Jess or Logan

Rating: R/NC 17

In the Heat of the Night

"Tristan?" Rory hissed loudly, trying to find her husband. He had pushed her into the maze, kissed her, and then left. She hadn't been able to find him since, and she was getting more annoyed as the seconds passed.

She just wanted to go back to The English Rose, the bed and breakfast that they were staying in. Rory detested bed and breakfasts. The obnoxious décor and the forced small talk were not things she wanted to surround her on her first trip to Williamsburg, Virginia.

This trip had been so exciting to plan. It was their first post-honeymoon vacation, on which they'd taken the Dugrey family yacht to the Caribbean and visited all the beautiful islands that make up the region. Once Tristan found out that she had never been to Williamsburg, one of his favorite vacation destinations, he had immediately decided that they needed to go. She had counted down the two months, one week, and six days until they would leave, learning all she could about the different activities and places of interest so they would have a game plan once they got down there.

She had scheduled activities, including the Cry Witch! witch trial they attended that night in the Capital and the Legends, Ghosts, Mysteries, and Myths story walk they were going on tomorrow night. She created an itinerary for all the surrounding historical sites, picking days to correspond with different events and activities that were available on those specific days.

She had planned everything single thing. But the one thing she hadn't planned on was this unbearable July Virginia heat. The moment they arrived the humidity had increased by fifteen percent, and it was continually over one hundred degrees every single day. In Rory's mind, all her carefully made plans had flown right out the window. After all, what kind of idiot would want to go gallivanting from location to location in this weather?

Apparently, her new husband.

Despite her best efforts to stay indoors with the glorious air conditioning, Tristan had pulled her along, ready to hit every single spot on her itinerary. Yesterday, it was the Jamestown settlement, where they were treated to their second cheesy historical movie--the first being Story of a Patriot, which Tristan had dragged her inside the theater to see after they got their passes. It was extremely mockable, but at the same time it was a little cool to see the longest running feature film starring that guy from Hawaii Five-0. Plus, she had found the perfect souvenir for her mother. The next movie night was sure to be snarky, as each and every site seemed to have a movie, and they got cheesier and cheesier as they went.

Today, he had dragged her to not only the Yorktown Victory Center, but also the Yorktown Battlefield. And while the Victory Center was interesting, Rory really had no desire to go to the battlefield. Maybe if it hadn't been one hundred and three out, she would have been more interested in standing on the actual ground that the key battle was fought on. Plus, the guide had been long-winded and evil. Every ten seconds, he would turn away from the group, but still continue to talk, so they missed the important anecdotes and information that George had been giving them. Plus, he was the only one who got to stand in the shade, and Rory had envied him his slight relief from the blazing, unforgiving sun.

When they got back to their room, which, thankfully, was understated, even elegant, all she had wanted to do was take a shower and stay in for the night. Walking around all day in the heat had taken its toll on her, and she wanted nothing more than the comforts that only a pillow could give.

But again, Tristan had other plans.

She did get her shower, but after stepping out from under the water stream they had quickly dressed and headed out to have dinner in Williamsburg at the King's Arms Tavern, to be followed by the Witch Trial.

The food was weird.

Really weird. Things like game pie and salad graced its menu. Finally, after much agonizing, she had decided on Mrs. Vobe's Tavern Dinner. She figured that she couldn't go wrong, as it was a little bit of everything. Surely, Rory would be able to find something in her dinner she liked.

It started off so well. The peanut soup was surprisingly good, especially when you dipped the cute little pieces of bread in it. But then her main course came. Her chicken breast and ham were both not only touching each other, but also the cornbread stuffing. And, they were all topped off with a grape sauce, which made her nose wrinkle. Grapes, after all, had no place anywhere near a piece of chicken. Or ham, for that matter. At least there was pie. The pecan pie was quite good, redeeming the day slightly. Funny how pie always held such healing powers for her and her mother.

The witch trial was kind of fun, even though she had been cold. Who knew that the Capital building was going to be air-conditioned? Every other place was insanely hot, but the courtroom was the exact opposite, and her thin-strapped gauzy dress did little but swish delicately around her calves.

Watching the trial go on in front of her was exciting. The actors truly immersed themselves in the roles, and never once left their new personas, becoming the eighteenth century characters they portrayed. Rory had swayed back and forth on her decision as to whether Grace Sherwood was guilty or innocent, treating the situation as though she had been selected to jury duty, despite her lacking some of the requisites for becoming a juror in 1720s, as she was not male and did not own one hundred acres of land. She was, however, over twenty-one, protestant, and white. Three out of five wasn't too bad, even though Tristan had been giddy that he was all five.

She had decided to vote not guilty. After all, the prosecutor had not truly fully proven his case. A witch's pin and a few women with a case of the vapors were not even close to a slam dunk. It seemed like the rest of the 'jury' felt the same way; more than half of them voting not guilty as well. (Even though she was sure that some people voted twice.)

Rory had been sure that the justice had been served. But then, as the bailiff was leading Grace Sherwood from the courtroom, she had let out the most maniacal cackle that Rory had ever heard. She, as well as several other people who were sitting closest to the back jumped about ten feet into the air.

She wasn't quite right about Grace Sherwood's innocence after that. At least it wasn't a real trial.

After Cry Witch! she had wanted to go straight back to their room and take her third shower of the day and crawl into bed, maybe get a foot massage from Tristan and his magic hands. Rory certainly deserved it; she had clocked a lot of miles on the pedometer she had bought for guilting purposes later on.

But instead of walking straight to the parking lot, Tristan had pulled her off to the side and waited for the other visitors to leave for their own vehicles. When he was sure the coast was clear, he dragged her off behind the Governor's Palace to the maze where she currently stood, hidden in the shadows.

"Tristan!" Rory whispered louder, peeking out from her hiding place among the boxwood hedge walls. "Tristan!" She couldn't see him. The sun had faded from the sky hours ago, and the rest of the Williamsburg day trippers had left on the last shuttles almost ten minutes earlier. This was getting ridiculous. What did he expect her to do? Just stand here all night?

Tristan had been quite annoying on this trip. He had not wavered in his quest to drink in each and every single attraction that the area had to offer and had insisted on bringing her along with him each and every time. They had been there for three days, and there hadn't been a free moment. Not a single, solitary one. Rory hadn't had a schedule this regimented since her concluding finals week her senior year at college. The fact that it had been her pouring over maps and brochures at the dining room table of their New York City apartment, carefully creating the nazi-like regime was beside the point. She wasn't the one sticking to the initial plan.

A bead of sweat trickled down her back. Did it ever get cool down here? It was after dark, and it hadn't even gone down a single degree yet.

Somewhere to her left a branch snapped, making her jump. "Tristan?" She whispered, more cautiously this time. If there was a psychopathic Wiccan priestess meeting with the devil and looking for a human sacrifice or two, she wasn't about to alert them to her presence.

"Over here." Relief washed over her at the sound of her husband's voice, the annoyance of leaving her all alone in the dark vanishing with each step she took toward him.

"Tristan, what's going on?" She asked, the moonlight lighting her way to him. He was near the back wall of the gardens at the back of the palace. "Why are we here?"

The gleam in his eyes answered her. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no." She said, realizing he intended for them to defile a piece of history.

He advanced on her anyway, pushing her against the rough brick. "It'll be fun, I promise." Tristan vowed, kissing her neck, his lips brushing against the spot just below her ear that always made her weak in the knees.

"Tristan…." Rory sighed, torn between wanting to leave and continue this in the privacy of their room and staying, interested in seeing just how well he fulfilled his promise. Tristan's hands slid down the sides of her body, grazing pleasure points lightly, just enough to turn her on, but not enough to give her any kind of true satisfaction.

But he had yet to disappoint her, and they had been together for three years. Maybe this wouldn't be bad. In fact, as his lips worked her neck, Rory began to see just how much fun this little illicit tryst could be. Tristan was the master at this. He could talk her into anything, whether it was joining the mile-high club or 'love in the elevator' at his office in downtown Manhattan. It was just impossible for her to say no to him.

"How do you always manage to talk me into these things?" She asked, feeling his throbbing hard-on digging into her belly as he ground into her. She could feel the delicate fabric of her dress catching on the wall behind her, but she didn't care. Her need for him was increasing tenfold, and her dress was a small price to pay for the release Tristan was sure to give her.

"You know. Why do you ask?" He kissed along her jaw line, running his hands down the backs of her arms as his tongue found her ear, running the tip along her shell.

She wanted him too. It still shocked her how little control she had over her body whenever he was near her. Tristan went to his knees; his arms clasped tightly around her hips and his face pressed against the soft 'V' of her thighs.

Hesitantly, Rory reached down and slid the long skirt of her dress up, knowing she wore nothing underneath. After all, panty lines were a fashion faux pas. Lorelai would have her ass, which was now bare and scraping the mortar holding the old bricks in place. She wanted nothing more than his hot breath, his lips, touching her there. Slowly, Rory opened herself up to him, like a flower to a bee. Tristan swiped his tongue against her clit, and she opened herself up even wider, arching up so his thrusting tongue could go even deeper as his lips caressed her.  
With a groan, he buried his face against her naked body, kissing her there, running the tip of his tongue over the throbbing ridge of flesh. Rory couldn't stop herself from grasping his head, pushing him harder against her body. Tristan's hand snaked behind her, holding her small bottom against him as he kissed and caressed her with his tongue. "Tristan… Tristan…." She moaned.

Rory wasn't sure she could remain standing as he teased her relentlessly with his mouth. Her legs were threatening to give way beneath her. Just as Rory reached the point where she thought she was going to faint, Tristan stood and reached behind her to unzip her dress. He pulled it off her shoulders, gazing at her body reverently as it fluttered to the ground, a puddle of creamy yellow at her feet.

"God," he muttered, pulling her to him for another kiss. "You are so hot." The look in his eyes made her shudder with want. Tristan had pulled away before she could orgasm, and she was desperate for release, her desire for him increasing with each second that passed.

Quickly she yanked his polo from his khakis and up over his head. She wanted him, she needed him, and she couldn't wait any longer. Tristan had left her on the very edge, and she wanted nothing more than to tumble down to the waiting pool of ecstasy she knew was awaiting her. Rory made quick work with his belt, and in less than thirty seconds, Tristan was as naked as she was.

It looked like she wasn't the only one affected by his earlier ministrations. He was hard and ready to go. "Please… Tristan," Rory whined, wanting him to end her torment. She pulled him to her, his body sandwiching her between him and the brick wall behind her. Rory could feel the rough surface scratching her skin, but could care less. She'd worry about a few measly scrapes in the morning.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at her in the pale moonlight, her features glistening with a thin layer of perspiration, before he finally slipped inside of her slowly, tantalizingly. Tristan grasped her hips, her legs locking securely around his waist, and he held her there, still unable not to tease her just a little. He knew what she wanted, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little bit of fun first.

Rory squirmed around, hoping to find some way to put her over the edge, but Tristan held her still, and with her back against the wall, she didn't have enough leverage. She thought she was going to cry out of sheer frustration when he started to move within her.

It was slow at first, stoking her fires, sending a shot of burning flames through her once more. Then his pace increased, and she could feel the sinewy muscles of his back working hard beneath her fingers as she grasped his shoulders tightly. Her vision blurred at the edges, becoming slightly out of focus as her body began to quake under his skillful thrusts. Rory could feel him, ramming up inside of her, his body slamming delectably against her own. It was like her body was on fire, responding to his final thrusts, clasping his member tightly as Tristan kissed her hard, muffling the sounds of both his and her release.

He collapsed against her, breathing hard. Rory gasped for air, setting her two unsteady legs back down upon the earth. She kissed his shoulder, her raspy breaths coming at more regular intervals now. "And to think I just wanted to stay in tonight." She laughed softly, leaning back against the wall.

"That's the last time you complain about my dragging out in the heat," he whispered into her ear with finality.

* * *

Please review! Hope you enjoyed! 


End file.
